So I'm great with child. Or good, at least, and getting greater with every passing day. Although I'm not quite into maternity clothes yet, I can tell I'm getting rounder because I've started absentmindedly putting my hand on top of my "belly shelf" and just resting it there. DH finds that (and the absentminded rubbing of the belly, which will come when I start to feel movement) incredibly annoying.
Eh. Let him get pg and see what weird habits he develops.
My big ultrasound is in less than a month! I actually had one at my first OB visit (10w2d) because she couldn't find the heartbeat on the ... heartbeat finder thingy. I've had a different OB with each kid, thanks to our moving to different states, and this doctor is the first I've been to who had an ultrasound machine in her office; every other time they've farmed me out to off-site specialty imaging clinics and only at or after 20 weeks. The early ultrasound was amazing! I had been a little detached from this pregnancy, especially given
what happened over Thanksgiving, but to see that little sea monkey actually in there, and waving its little arms at me! There are no words for that.
I wonder what this one will be. I don't trust my intuition at all; it hasn't served me well before. And beyond that, I don't really
have any intuitive feelings about this baby. Who knows! I hope the kid will cooperate.
I asked the girls last week what they thought the baby would be, and what they thought we should name him or her.
"I want a boy," Dos said, "and I think he's name should be Butterfly."
"I think she's a girl," Uno said, "and we will call her Lilly. ...Or Ponybelle."
Right now we're sticking with Joe Bob, our default name for all unknown fetuses, but I really, really like the sound of Ponybelle. Maybe we can use both: Joe Bob Ponybelle LastName.
As we get closer to the big ultrasound, of course, I'm growing increasingly paranoid about what might be wrong with the child. DH thinks I need to get over it and have a little faith. But you know what? People with faith sometimes have babies with serious problems. The rain falls on the righteous just as on the wicked (or the other way around, but it comes to the same thing). We've been so blessed so far, with two perfectly healthy and bright and adorable children; is it unreasonable to think there might be another shoe about to drop? (Was the miscarriage the other shoe?)
On the other hand, my paranoia has not led me to be any better about my daily shots. I'm supposed to give myself a prophylactic dose of heparin every night to ward off blood clots that I'm genetically prone to (though I've never had one). But I hate the shots. They're inconvenient, and a pain in the leg (ha, ha). I don't do them during the day because I don't want the girls to see ... and then by the time night rolls around and they're safely and FINALLY tucked in their beds for good, I'm often too tired to bother. I shot myself -- or had someone else shoot me, when I was still scared of the needles -- religiously with my first pregnancy (and that was twice a day!); I was a little more casual, but still consistent with my second; this time I just can't muster the energy to care.
The most likely bad outcome of me not shooting up often enough is a blood clot for me -- a DVT or (heaven forbid) a pulmonary embolism or something. But there's a possibility that the baby's own tissue, or the amniotic sac or whatever, could clot and cause serious problems for little Ponybelle. Then again, everything might turn out absolutely fine even if I stopped the heparin completely; after all, it's just a preventative dose and there's nothing in my own medical history (um, aside from that little
genetic mutation) to indicate I'd have problems. My sister's history, heck yeah, but not mine.
Yet.
I really should shoot up more often.
*Sigh.*
I don't get nauseated (yes, I know how lucky that makes me!) but since the beginning of this pregnancy I've had a serious aversion to my formerly beloved Diet Dr. Pepper (strangely the full caloried stuff doesn't seem to bother me). Lately, though, I'm feeling food averse to everything! It's very sad. I feel gross if I don't eat, because then my insides start to digest themselves. But if I
do eat, I get terrible heartburn and feel gross anyway. And nothing sounds appetizing. So why bother? Oh yeah, because I have to feed Joe Bob Ponybelle, lol. I keep forgetting.
It makes cooking dinner for my family terribly unappealing, though. DH and the girls have been eating a lot of jelly sandwiches, hot dogs, and cold cereal lately. Stuff I don't have to think about.
Speaking of, I guess I ought to start thinking about what to make tonight. How about frozen pizza? The girls will like that. And I could probably force myself to eat a piece or two.
Aaaaah, the joys of bringing life into the world....
~RCH~
